


Have You Forgotten?

by mysticalqueer



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Coming of Age, Fluff, Kid Fic, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-12
Updated: 2015-09-12
Packaged: 2018-04-20 11:32:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,928
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4785812
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mysticalqueer/pseuds/mysticalqueer
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They are each other’s safe havens. And that's how it's always been.</p><p>Inspired by Have You Forgotten by The Red House Painters.</p><p>(excuse me, I’m super awful at summaries. But trust me. It’s cute.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Have You Forgotten?

**Author's Note:**

> Alright so hopefully you guys like this! I’m not a writer, have never really written a fic before and this is the very first one I’ve ever completed. I’ve had this written for a while and only recently have brought myself to clean it up. It’s a story I’ve been wanting to post for ages, and now I’ve finally mustered myself up enough to do it. Enjoy! ♥
> 
> (also if you’re wanting a nice playlist to match here ya go!)

Harry and Louis have been so close for so long, earlier than their young brains could even bother to retain. Even from the very first day they met, they knew. Everyone knew.

Their mothers used to tell them stories at their bedsides of the exact day they met each other, and how annoyingly persistent Louis had been with him. Louis would stand there, pressing his hands into the little tray of Harry’s high chair and saying in his weird mumble, “Say bird! Say bird!”

And tiny one year old Harry didn’t know much better than to giggle and smile at him, which would bring on a defeated little frown before he would eventually turn to his mom. “Maaa, s’it bird? Right?” She’d always reassure him with a “yes, sweetie” until the cycle repeated itself over and over again.

Since then, he’s always considered him his best friend. Someone so, so close and dear to him. They’re just so loyal, and _there_ for each other, from tiny things like "Hey, so what's 8 times 4?" to long hugs in private because god fuck that stupid kid Billy from grade 4.

There's always late night sneaking out through windows, and breaking in to each other’s kitchens to make PB&J sandwiches, and let’s not forget the long standing water gun fight that they've had since two years back.

They're so much older now and they're no longer 1 and 3. They're 9 and 11 and experiencing so many changes in the world, and the only constant is theirs.

\--

One day, Louis yelled out into the kitchen, "Maaaaa, I'm gonna go hang out with Harry."

And it's not like she even cared. It's not like they didn't do it every day anyway. All she could bother to say with a shrug was, "Do you have your watch on?" and blindly reached for his wrist.

Louis wriggled his wrist out of her grip and furrowed his brows, "Mom, mom. Geez. Mom! I've got it."

"Before 6, Louis."

"Okay, mom. Before 6."

He left out the front door and hopped the fence, then managing to climb his way up to Harry’s window and tapped his knuckles against it.

Almost immediately, Harry opened the window with furrowed brows, and a deepened voice practically growling at him, "What do you think you're doing?"

Louis simply shrugged, "I do this all the time, I don't get why you're freaking out."

"It's not like you have to sneak in or anything. The front door's open."

Louis rolled his eyes, "Whatever. Anyway. Let's go. I wanna play around in that field back there," and he let free a hand to point, which nearly gave Harry a heart attack and he practically lunged to clutch against his shoulders.

Harry’s eyes were shot wide open, "Oh my god, Lou, you need to be more careful.” He’d let out a few more panicked huffs before he continued, “But no. No, no, no. My mom told me there’s snakes in that field. I don’t trust it.”

"It's nothing bad, Harry. I swear."

"No," he’d shot back immediately.

"But Harry. I won't let you get hurt. I pinky promise. Please?"

Louis had pulled that heartbreaking frown and those glistening puppy eyes that he knew all too well would turn Harry to mush. Harry understood he trying to play him to get what he wanted, but it was working, and it was working _well_.

"Pinky promise?" Harry pushes through a long sigh and hesitantly holds out his pinky.

And Louis brings his own up to lock with his, and with a smile he nods, "Yeah, pinky promise."

\--

Soon enough they're already in the fields, running around and just being boys. Louis suddenly shoves Harry, nearly to the point of him falling and takes off into a sprint, yelling into the crisp, spring air, "Taaaag! You’re it!"

Harry audibly groaned as he watched him quickly begin to fade into the tall grasses, his tired lungs taking a few heavy breaths of air before he was set to go after him again. It was an absolutely endless half hour of the two just chasing each other around, but as usual, Louis decided to be that one risky idiot and took off far beyond the field and into the thick gathering of trees behind them. Harry wasn't even bothered by it for a while, until he lost him entirely.

With sweat beading his brow, and his breath taken from him, he weakly and tiredly tried to pipe up, "Louis? Louis where are you?"

His lower lip trembled in worry with the lack of a response, and he kept on weaving in and out of trees just hoping and praying for a glimpse of him. He’d carefully and thoroughly searched for him, pushing his hands through bushes and circling around trees. He’d belt out his name every once in a while with not a single response echoing back.

It wasn’t until he came into this small little clearing that he’d spotted him… and found more than just Louis there.

There stood this old, old rickety cabin before them. The two were so entranced at the sight of this worn down place that when Harry slowly came up behind him, he couldn’t bother more than just to whisper as he came to touch his shoulder, “….tag.”

The rest of that time, the two boys explored the place. It was just one big room, really. Aside from a couple abandoned shelves, it was an empty wooden box. But this cabin was so, so cool and interesting to them, and they endlessly raved about how they wanted this to be their one getaway spot, away from trouble, away from everybody. Just somewhere only _they_ knew about.

So that's what it came to be for them.

It was almost a daily thing to them for a while. To run through the fields until each other’s breath wore out, and then seek comfort inside the tiny little cabin. It was such a fun little thing at first sneaking off to the cabin, occasionally doing simple things like homework or studying together. And we all know as little boys do, where they explore their language and laugh while repeating all the bad words they’d heard on TV the night before.

But it soon turned into an emotional sort of attachment.

One day, Harry was down about himself and Louis was there by his window as he always was. Harry tried to hide it, but Louis knows. He always knows. So he snuck them out into cabin in the woods, but it felt so different. And so much more personal.

His voice was trembling as he spoke on school frustrations, and how he didn't feel like he belonged, or that he wasn't good enough. And all they did the rest of the time was sit all too close to each other, and whisper small phrases of praise, and how he was "just too good for them" and "they don't see what they're missing out on."

And Louis tickled his sides to just have an excuse to see him laugh whenever he noticed his small pout sneak across his lips again.

It was then at that very moment that they recognized that their friendship wasn't like others. They were so much different, and it was only a recognition that grew more and more obvious with time at the cabin.

Soon they used the cabin as their personal diary.  They’d step in with pen in hand, scrawling down entries onto blank wooden slats. They weren't always serious, and some of these entries they just used as an excuse to get each other to laugh.

As Louis did from time to time, "Hey, Harry come read this!" And it'd be something so hilariously immature like, "Mr. Gibson is a dick. -Louis (7/18)"

But as stupid as it was, Harry would be absolutely bursting at the seams with laughter.

\--

And so they've been growing up and they're no longer 9 and 11. But they're 13 and 15, which isn't too far off but things have matured, and priorities have changed, even if just a smidge. It's no longer about beating the next level of Mario Bros., but it's about girls, and dating, and trying to find ways to fit in with the crowd without losing yourself in it.

The next time they meet, Louis has to be 100% honest with himself when he tells Harry that he's interested in a girl but he really, really doesn't know what to do.

Harry isn’t too well-versed with all this romantic spiel, so he simply shrugs and says, “Kiss her or something. I wouldn’t know.”

Louis looks at him a little harder and his body begins to stiffen, uncomfortable.

“But… Harry, kisses aren’t something I do.”

Harry does this slow shake of his head and smirks, “Come on -“

“I mean,” he has to interrupt with wild hands outstretched in front of him. “What I meant - I’ve never kissed anyone, y’know? Or been kissed. Or. I mean,” he groans and places his head within his palms and can feel the heat in his body rise with the downward spiral of embarrassment. “It’s something I should know, I get it.”

Harry squints as there’s a thought twisting in his head. Between the brief silence, he allows that thought to sit there and just simmer for a while before he’s ready to speak on it.

Louis could sense his hesitation, and couldn’t help himself but to ask, “What is it, Harry?”

"Lou, you know we have the cabin, right? I mean, it's all on you, but," he's extremely vague, vague to the point where Louis is furrowing his brows and rolling his hands around looking for an elaboration.

Harry begins again, "What happens stays in the cabin."

It's suddenly clicked in Louis' mind that Harry is openly asking if he wants to practice on him. To _kiss_ him.

“Wait, I-,” Louis begins stammering over his words.

“No wait, I’m sorry. That was weird. I’m sorry. Forget it.”

The silence between them is honestly growing uncomfortable, but Louis purses his lips and then slowly lifts his gaze towards him, "So, what happens in the cabin stays in the cabin... right?"

Harry locks his eyes with his and slowly nods, bringing out his pinky, “Like always, I pinky promise.”

It's a little bit awkward, and they assure each other over and over again that it's not going to be anything super big and that it's okay because they've _been_ friends and they trust each other with so much that it shouldn't be an issue, but they're both genuinely a little flustered.

They adjust themselves to face each other, and pat each other's figure and dip their heads while they say, "You okay? You comfortable? Wait, wait. Move over here a little bit. Okay." And it's not like they've even started the kiss.

Louis gently holds Harry’s arms in his hands, and he can swear for a moment that he shivers underneath his touch. Harry's eyes are so, so big and bright, and shimmery as he looks at him, and suddenly he's feeling ten times more nervous than he already was.

But there came a time when he mentally just said _fuck it_ and went for it. And it's not one of those wet, complicated ones that you see in the movies, but it's just the simple press of lips. They're so soft against his, and he can just feel this light glow around him, and he wonders if he feels it too.

They stay on each other for a while, unmoving, and he's not too sure if it's all for the practice in itself, or if they just genuinely don't want to let go.

But once they do, Harry's got to press his lips tight to his face to try not to smile as Louis says, "How was that?" and he just nods.

"Should I do it like that?"

"That was good, yeah. Kiss her like that."

\--

Later on that night, once they all have gone back home, Harry’s got an itch to write something that feels so much more permanent than a pen ground into the floors. He takes it upon himself to raid his dad's dresser in search for his tiny pocket knife.

Once he finds it, he hops out of his window, and with both his pocket knife and gameboy rested deep within the pockets of his shorts, he runs back to the cabin.

And when he gets there, he turns on his gameboy for light source, flicks out the knife, and carves as best he can into the walls in the dark, "that was nice."

It's just three simple words, but his heart hurts. He can still feel the kiss on his lips. In his chest. In his head. In his everything. And it's not something he'd like to admit more than those three words, so he pulls the thought back and swears to himself that the last of it are written on the walls.

And with that, he sneaks back out of the cabin, runs through the fields, and as quietly as ever pulls himself into his window and tries to fall asleep.

\--

The next time they meet, Louis is a little bit upset.

Once they sit in the middle of the room again, he tells him that, "Man, I kissed her just like that and I just wasn't feeling it. It wasn't right. It really wasn't right."

And Harry's not sure if he should feel as glad as he does, but of course he doesn't say that. He doesn't say that at all. Instead he pulls a forced frown and drags on an, "awww, that sucks it didn't work out."

But Louis didn't want to talk much more than that. So that was that.

\--

Now soon enough, they are 16 and 18 and things aren't so innocent anymore. And people are meaner. And you have to suck up to get anywhere.

Their writings on the wooden floors are getting noticeably darker and negative and full of so many sad words, yet there are words from when they were 12 just a few slats over and they're all loaded with smiley faces and how much they loved life. All they can manage to talk about now are how quickly things have changed and how when you're this old you don't have time to back down and be the same kid that you used to be.

It's not something they talk about often. They notice the changes, but it's something they get accustomed to, and don't have time to complain about. So they sit there, maybe write a couple words on it on blank slats, but they move on. Because that's life.

And speaking of life, it's Louis' last year and neither one of them like to think about it. Even as Louis is sending off application after application, he likes to pretend it's nothing.

He still sneaks into his kitchen and makes them PB&J sandwiches and tries to shake off the fact that he's gotten so fucking old so fucking fast, and he's just right on the edge of being an actual adult. So he whines like he's still in elementary school and giggles about all the teachers he hates just the same as he did when he was younger.

But while in the confines of Harry's room, Harry looks at him with eyebrows furrowed and serious.

"Louis. What am I going to do."

Louis doesn't even ask what he means by that, because he knows. And he has a hard time swallowing his bite of the sandwich, and shakes his head and giggles it off like it's nothing.

And Harry nearly claws at his arm as he grabs him, "What am I going to do."

It's so strange to him because they're not in the cabin and he's so vulnerable and "I don't know." Is all he can manage to say.

They just sit in silence until Louis finishes his sandwich and whispers a soft goodbye and closes the door.

It was that night that while Louis sought out comfort on his own into the little cabin, Harry's face was stuffed into his tear-soaked pillow.

Louis while in the cabin just stands there in the dark, with only the soft illumination of basic figures through the moonlight. He walks around in circles a few times and his brain is racing a million miles a minute.

It’s here that he realizes how much he's held off the thought, and he's incredibly nervous. Nervous about his future here, about his future with his best friend, nervous about anything and everything. He suddenly feels so much more grown than he wants to be, and it terrifies him.

This night changes the two. Even in separate rooms, even without a word, they are changed.

\--

Soon it's graduation day and Louis' things are all packed. It’s so hard to believe that he’s leaving. All Harry can hear from outside his window are the loud thumps of his boxes piling up, and he can swear the noises will drive him insane so he turns up the radio a little louder just hoping maybe he can drown it out. It’s hours before he’ll have to see Louis walk the stage, and a couple more before he has to watch him leave.

During his graduation, things are no better. His chest still heaves at the mere thought of him, and emotions rise worse than ever as he has to sit there and hear his name be called. As he’s exchanging handshakes and receiving his diploma, the same phrase runs through his head about a hundred times.

_“This is really it.”_

Everything in Harry aches. His body wiggles anxiously in the bleachers and his breathing hitches painfully. All he wants more than anything is to just get up and leave.

Once the ceremony was over, the two had spent a great deal of time trying to dodge each other. Somewhat thankfully, Louis had been busy with nothing short of a million hugs and congratulations, stalling their last goodbyes.

But they could only dance around each other for so long before they eventually were made to at least acknowledge one another. Right then, Louis manages to sneak him out in the middle of it all and whispers into his ears, "Let’s go to the cabin just one more time.... please?"

And that's what they do.

It's so different this time. They don't frolic through the tall grasses like before. They're not a mess and fit of giggles. They're both just so stiff and awkward next to each other, and neither can bring themselves to utter even a single word.

Even when they enter the cabin, there's such an extreme lack of anything.

But eventually between it all, Louis pulls in a tight hug to Harry, and they both lose it right then and there.

They've both managed to cry in front of each other before, but not like this. And not so hard either. And not for each other. So it's painful for them, and they're grabbing onto each other like they're each other's life force.

It's this sudden realization that they will have to be without each other, and Harry's whimpering into his ear, "please don't go" and all Louis can do is hush into his skin over and over again, "I'm  sorry, I'm so, so sorry."

And just an hour or so later, it's all said and done. He's gone. He's really gone. And it's sad, and lonely.

Even as the weeks pass, he still can't get used to it. He promises to call, which he does. He does that almost every day, but it's just not the same.

Soon it's almost been 6 months, and now he hardly ever calls because he's so busy with life outside of Harry.

Harry adjusts not so comfortably, but he does. He has a few more friends, and tries to be more open, but he can't bother to hold anybody as high as Louis. It just won't happen.

Before long, it's Christmas Eve and Louis’ birthday before he finally sees him again.

It's not as joyful a reunion as they hoped for. They're very smiley of course, but it's just a little awkward, and a little weird. It’s something that takes some time to adjust.

"So how's life at 19," he pipes up as he's lounged back onto his couch.

"Annoying, but how's life at 16?"

Harry looks around the living room briefly and says a little quiet, "Like shit."

They laugh a little, but it all comes across so fake and stiff, and very quickly they're shot down to dead silence once again.

Louis bit his lip lightly, "Maybe we should go back into the cabin... For old times sake."

After throwing on some heavier coats, they walked as they did so many times before, down the field, into the brush of trees, and straight into the cabin.

It's no different for Harry, but for Louis, he gasps like his breath is taken from him. You can just tell in his face how much he's missed it. He's running over to old journal entries and laughing as he stumbles upon the ones where he writes about Mr. Gibson being a dick. It's all so hilarious and he cringes at his 11 year old self.

"Damn," is all he can say. He shakes his head with the little twist of his lips, "Damn."

Harry for the most part is twiddling his thumbs in the corner while Louis reads all of his own entries.

But then his eyes come to the carved writings on the walls just before the door, and quietly reads it to himself.

"That was nice."

Harry's heart jumps out of his chest as soon as he hears that. He can feel his entire body begin to tingle in the memory as he’s brought back to old feelings. His skin immediately pales, and no matter how hard he tries to shake the crazy look off his face, he can’t.

"Haha, what was that even for, Harry? What was nice?" It's not even in a questioning, interrogative way. It's just mild curiosity, but he still can't help but be nervous when he asks.

"Ah. It was nothing. Nothing, really," he quickly shot back.

Louis pouts a little bit, "Remember when we said that we could tell each other everything here? It's no different now."

It takes courage when Harry walks over to him and hugs him, and they do that for a long, long time, periodically burying themselves deeper into each other. It was Louis who backed out first, greeted to those familiar, glossy, green eyes.

Louis just dives in and tickles his sides as he used to, and he tells him how wonderful he is the very same way he always did.

And lastly, he kisses him, just like he did that one day.

And it all made sense. All of it did.

And late, late that night, when his sleeping beauty was knocked dead into his sleep, Harry grabs his father’s old knife again from his drawer and sneaks out into the cabin just one last time. Just beneath the scraggly carved text, he traces the knife, hacking away at the splintered wood for one last time. Jagged line after jagged line became words, and words became a phrase.

He tucks the knife back away safely beneath the loose, wooden slat, and he skims the wall one last time.

“It was nice, _It was so, so **nice**_.”


End file.
